Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time

'As expected. There is no black-rank master of the Desolate Fortress.'

Jung Yeonshin scanned the allies once again. The overwhelming qi unique to black-clad elites was nowhere to be felt.

It was only natural. The Central Plains were vast, as large as combining dozens of foreign nations. It was a scale too great for even seventeen martial divisions to handle.

Moreover, three of those divisions were concentrated in the Hwangbo Clan, leaving the main sect inevitably stretched thin.

The forces were already scattered across the Central Plains.

Even the Divine Sword Squad Leader rarely entered the main fortress at Yangyang, signifying that he was fulfilling his duties at Desolate Fortress.

Even if a couple of masters had come, they were likely keeping the Blood Flame Cult's Apostles in check elsewhere.

There were quite a few in blue uniforms, mainly martial artists drawn in by status and authority, who were being directed by the sect.

They were fiercely clashing with the main forces.

"Have you joined the Blood Flame Cult?"

In the midst of it all, a strangely familiar shout erupted. It was a young Taoist who had suddenly approached within close range.

The plum blossom embroidery on his Mount Hua Sect robe fluttered.

'Yoo Hyun.'

He was the chief disciple of the Mount Hua Sect and Jung Yeonshin's close friend.

Despite the circumstances of the battle, he exuded a sense of composure, just as he had on the day they first met.

Wei-Ji Myohwa, the successor of the Zhongnan Sect, and Gak Jeong, a novice monk from Shaolin, were also there.

The allies from the Nine Great Sects arrived, even bringing along senior disciples. Jung Yeonshin recognized it at a glance.

They had come purely out of friendship and a sense of justice. They must have sought permission from their sect elders.

'We spoke of the disappearance of chivalry.'

Jung Yeonshin recalled the Blood Flame Cult's leader, who had spoken of famine and drought. He shook his head inwardly.

Could they still say the same things after meeting these people?

Tap.

"These guys are pretty strong."

Chung Myung had the fastest movement technique. As he spun and landed, the blue robe of Desolate Fortress flowed elegantly.

His light footwork made his movements seem weightless.

Whoosh!

Jung Yeonshin's hair fluttered in the distinctive breeze of the Ming Sect's technique. Chung Myung tapped his shoulder with a grin, appearing more reliable than anyone at that moment.

Baek Miryeo and Wei-Ji Myohwa arrived next, generating strong winds with their entry. But it didn't end there.

Yoo Hyun and five Plum Blossom Swordsmen, Gak Jeong and four formidable monks, ten masters from the Zhongnan Sect, and Heon Wonchang followed.

They exchanged glances without words. The situation left no room for pleasantries.

"The Blood Flame Cult's main forces... truly formidable."

One of the Plum Blossom Swordsmen muttered grimly.

The standoff began.

Jung Yeonshin and the martial allies stood in the center, surrounded by the Blood Flame Cult's elites closing in.

'They left this space open. It was intentional.'

Jung Yeonshin realized their plan.

The Blood Flame Cult's Apostles, including the Sixth Apostle, clearly aimed to lure in the fastest intruders and crush them first.

"We've secured Lightning Genius's body."

Baek Miryeo spoke up.

"But getting out will be a problem. Who knows how many exchanges it'll take for the Lord to slay the Blood Flame Cult leader?"

Even as she spoke, her gaze swept over Jung Yeonshin's bloodstained robe, checking for injuries.

"That guy, isn't he one of their Apostles?"

Heon Wonchang belatedly exclaimed, pointing at the Sixth Apostle in alarm.

The elite allies who had arrived earlier had already been keeping a close watch on him.

The immense aura enveloping the Apostle's body demanded vigilance. The stronger the martial artist, the sharper their energy perception.

"Mount Hua, Zhongnan... Shaolin. Even the Nine Great Sects are here."

The Sixth Apostle smirked, the fleshless sides of his cheeks hollowed deeply.

"Afraid of the aftermath? Your forces are lacking. Not even a single elder among you."

No one responded to his words.

The Blood Flame Cult was massive. The combined strength of its branches might even surpass the main sect.

The strength of the First and Second Apostles alone was said to rival the heads of major martial clans.

Relations between these large factions were more political than martial.

This applied to both the Thirteen Heavens of the demonic sects and the major orthodox sects.

Having elders from the Nine Great Sects step forward signaled a declaration of war.

Engaging in total war, as seen with the Zhongnan Sect and the Tyrant Sword Tribe, was a matter of survival. No one took it lightly.

Ssshh.

Meanwhile, the Cult's Swordsmen adjusted their stances. Their formation was complete. The oppressive aura of their combined presence was overwhelming.

It was the moment before a high-level battle commenced.

Perhaps due to the tension, Heon Wonchang's voice rang out.

-Why do these Blood Master Swordsmen look so strong?

It was a voice transmission. Jung Yeonshin replied immediately.

-Because they are.

He had spent a long time in the main sect. Many had sought his teachings.

The Blood Flame Cult had no shortage of demons who offered living humans as sacrifices. Among them, the swordsmen who had presented martial arts were especially powerful.

-There's a dungeon holding those who barely escaped having their vital energy drained. We must win to save them.

Jung Yeonshin had arranged with the Seventh Apostle to allocate a dungeon. He had gathered the near-sacrifices there, determined to protect them.

Heon Wonchang's expression hardened. Without a word, he adjusted his sword grip, emanating honed killing intent.

Jung Yeonshin raised his inner energy once more.

He concentrated energy into the Person Meeting and Sky Screen points near his throat, paying particular attention.

-We can kill all the Blood Master Swordsmen.

He sent a voice transmission to Baek Miryeo.

-Will you guard me?

-...You're a blue-ranked infiltrator on a long-term mission. That deserves respect.

Baek Miryeo answered calmly, masking her surprise.

The enemies were already closing in.

As the masters from the Nine Great Sects guarded their surroundings, elite martial artists carefully observed Jung Yeonshin.

Wooong!

Jung Yeonshin immediately activated the Demon-Slaying Azure Steel Palm technique.

The blue-tinted energy now carried a peculiar resonance.

The Sixth Apostle seemed to sense the change first, but Jung Yeonshin had already begun unraveling the technique's mysteries.

Wooong!

It was a technique that infused radiating energy into swordsmanship.

But this time, it was different. It contained divine power, not just sound.

The rippling force began spreading outward, awakening the energies planted during over thirty dawn rituals of the Blood Flame Cult.

Resonance filled the air.

The Sixth Apostle lunged first, his movement like a flash of light.

Boom!

Marble shards exploded in all directions.

Shaolin monks, led by Gak Jeong, blocked his advance. A unified surge of energy rippled outward.

For an instant, a Buddha's image seemed to appear.

It was the Eighteen Arhats Formation, executed by only five monks.

"Buddha's will rests upon your heads!"

Gak Jeong stood at the center, blocking the Apostle's punch with martial techniques displayed during their debates.

A clash of overwhelming forces followed. Shaolin Dragon Fist.

Yet, they were pushed back. Gak Jeong roared.

"Ahhh!"

Their combined energy reinforced his stance. Shaolin, the origin of martial arts, showed its might.

Jung Yeonshin felt deeply grateful.

He closed his eyes.

The presences of Chung Myung, Baek Miryeo, and Heon Wonchang surrounded him closely.

Their trust brought unexpected warmth.

Crash!

The clash of masters echoed fiercely.

The energy waves resonating like drums against skin were amazing. He felt it completely.

The masters who had faced off became chaotically entangled.

'This fight. I won't drag it out long.'

Jung Yeonshin thought. The scale of battle was large? His efforts focusing only on preparation for over thirty days were the same.

Very faint energy waves were spreading in concentric circles. It was the Sword Song of the Demon-Slaying Azure Steel Palm dwelling in his right hand.

The reaction was immediate.

WOONG!

It started from the railings of the thirty-six steps. Dharma power waves suddenly burst forth.

Jung Yeonshin felt it even with his eyes closed.

"Heok!"

Two Blood Master Swordsmen' breathing faltered. They were ones crossing swords with Plum Blossom Sword Masters while going up and down the steps.

A moment's gap converged into instant death. When the Mount Hua Plum Blossom Sword flashed, the guy's head flew off.

"What is this…?"

The Plum Blossom Swordmaster muttered blankly even after achieving victory.

It was a cross-section of events. Gradually the same things happened everywhere.

The Blood Master Swordsmen's defeats increased rapidly. The source was clear.

While blood sprayed and the Sixth apostle rampaged madly, regardless of friend or foe, one by one they began extending energy sense toward the young Desolate Fortress' Lightning Genius.

Amidst that, Jung Yeonshin slowly lifted his foot.

Step.

He began climbing the thirty-six steps. He alone was peaceful within the escort of his Radiant Demon Squad companions.

The Blood Master Swordsmen couldn't approach. It was because the waves of the Demon-Slaying Azure Steel Palm grew increasingly dense.

WOOONG!

With each step, the dharma power grew stronger. Long preparation bloomed the flower of demon destruction.

Righteous energy was being triggered in sequence from all places in the main hall.

Jung Yeonshin reached the end of the thirty-six steps of affliction. He opened his eyes too.

It was the place where the Blood Flame Cult Leader had looked down on all people. He raised his foot to stamp a true step.

It was because it was hard to endure. The upper dantian burning in his mind was dyeing the inside of his head white.

THUD!

He ground his foot.

That was the starting point.

Jung Yeonshin took his first step forward.

Wooong—!

A pale blue light began to ripple outward in all directions.

The key formation of the Twin Flame Blood Spirit Formation transformed into a subjugating array of exorcism.

Even the fragments of the spell formations carved by the Lord of Desolate Fortress were altered completely.

The power of the Demon-Slaying Azure Steel Palm, planted throughout the main sect over the years, surged like waves.

Starting from the railings, spreading to the steps and eaves, the cascading chain reactions of impact exploded endlessly.

Screams echoed throughout the Blood Flame Cult's main hall, now turned into a battlefield.

The cries of Blood Master Swordsmen filled the air. Their agony painted the skies with raw despair.

In an instant, the scene turned into a vision of hell. The cultists writhed as though trapped in the grasp of Acala, the Immovable Wisdom King.

"Hu, huff."

"What... What is this...!"

The battle near the cult leader's quarters was even worse.

They took the direct brunt of the overlapping waves of divine power. Those who collapsed died swiftly.

The rest, staggering, met gruesome ends under the swords of the orthodox martial artists.

Compared to their initial might, the fall of the cult's elites seemed pitiful.

The term 'Devil Extermination' lived up to its name. The hands of righteous martial artists showed no mercy toward demonic cults.

Yet, the cultists within the inner hall didn't even look at their assailants. Even as they died, their eyes fixed upon Jung Yeonshin, standing atop the steps.

A young Grand Master.

His jet-black hair, flowing to his shoulders, wavered in the pulsating waves, his gaze shining like a sunlit sea.

In his outstretched hand, a deeper azure glow shimmered, enveloping him.

The sacred waves of blue light blended with the blood-stained robe, creating a surreal scene.

"Kill him...!"

"He has summoned a god..."

"How can a lowborn look so noble..."

"If only he had truly become the Grand Master..."

The orthodox martial artists displayed similar reactions. While cutting down their enemies, their eyes turned toward the young genius of Desolate Fortress.

Their plans had been different. They were prepared to endure the assaults of the Apostles and enemy swordsmen.

Their strategy relied on absolute faith in the Fortress Lord's unmatched strength.

They had braced themselves for heavy losses. Yet, it was all unnecessary.

The reality felt surreal. The young genius, once held captive, had overturned the entire battle.

"What in heaven's name is this...?"

"Look! The cultists are committing suicide!"

"No, it's not suicide. It's the method of the Buddhist sects."

"I've never heard of such a thing. Who in this world..."

They were martial artists and soldiers gathered from all over the region, including other blue-clad warriors.

Approaching from the outskirts, they halted at the sight of the Thirty-Six Steps.

A brief silence lingered.

These warriors, sensitive to true energy, could clearly feel the divine waves radiating from the boy in the bloodstained robe standing at the edge of the steps.

Before they knew it, only the Sixth Apostle remained standing.

His fists, stained with the blood of several orthodox masters, dripped steadily. Yet, that was all.

The battle came to a natural halt.

"Has Mahavairocana descended...?"

[TL Note- Mahavairocana or Great Illuminator, is the chief deity of Esoteric Buddhism, and is generally referred to as "Great Sun Tathāgata".]

The Sixth Apostle muttered, his voice uncharacteristically reverent for a cultist.

"You're no Grand Master... You're Lightning Genius, aren't you? From the very beginning..."

"You Apostles."

Jung Yeonshin cut him off mid-conversation and continued slowly.

"You all talk too much. Every single one of you."

He raised his hand, still imbued with the Demon-Slaying Azure Steel Palm.

The divine waves, still rippling, twisted and stretched without end. It was a gesture that declared words were no longer needed.

The perfected formation was on his side. He could handle this.

'But it's hard.'

His body spoke otherwise.

The backlash of the technique pressed down on his upper energy center, as though his head might implode.

He desperately concealed his exhaustion.

The Shaolin monks who had withstood the Sixth Apostle's assault were in tatters.

Now, he was the only one left with the strength to face the demonic forces.

"Hah."

For a moment, the Sixth Apostle's eyes widened, his expression clearing of despair.

Gone were greed and dogma. What remained was pure admiration.

The Sixth Apostle spoke with awe.

"Even your head—"

Splurt!

Before he could finish, his mouth and body exploded into fragments.

A massive gust followed, sweeping away the scattered remains.

Tap.

A woman descended as lightly as petals falling from above. She landed beside Jung Yeonshin.

"Lord!"

The blood-covered Chung Myung and Baek Miryeo immediately bowed. Heon Wonchang, though late, also knelt.

The warriors of Desolate Fortress followed suit.

Seeing this, many martial artists from various sects either knelt or raised respectful salutes.

Expressions varied—reverence, awe, and even fear.

"Lord... my lord."

Jung Yeonshin barely managed to speak. His entire body suddenly felt unbearably heavy.

The strain he had been holding back poured out like a breached dam.

He struggled to lift his head.

Their eyes met.

Her emerald-green eyes shimmered under the sunlight as she looked at him, radiant and serene.

Perhaps because of her transcendence as a martial master, encounters with the Lord of Desolate Fortress always felt this way.

It was as if even a blade of grass stirred one's soul, brushing over every fiber of the body.

Her lips moved slowly.

"Your position will change."

Her voice echoed distantly, as though spoken from afar.

His eyelids had shut without him noticing, his vision darkening like a dream.

"I grant you rest for now. Sleep well."

Rustle.

He felt the soft brush of her robe against his cheek.

His collapsing body was caught and steadied.

Was he in her arms? She had granted him rest. Perhaps he would wake up in Desolate Fortress.

He truly hoped they wouldn't send him away.

'If only she had given me a fruit.'

Just one piece.

Even his desperate thoughts scattered like drifting petals.

He sank into the depths of unconsciousness, like plunging into a bottomless pit.

He did not resist.

Even the blade of his heart, honed through years in the martial world, finally dulled.

Jung Yeonshin thought it would only be for a moment.